|
|
|
|
|
|
|
able. Finally, when the words did force their way out, they were distorted and detached. "Where . . . where . . . am I?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Bartholomew, my boy, you're right where you were when you nearly bought the farm," Freeman informed him. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"How'd you . . . you find me?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"We started working backwards," Linda said. "Moxie and I finished boarding up the house, then we went to the Gull House like you told us to. We waited there for over an hour, and when you didn't show up, I called the sheriff's office in Port Isabel. They said you and Morgan hadn't showed up yet." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Moxie's voice creeped in from somewhere back in the shadows of the room. "I call the bridge authority, Boss Bart, and they say they ain't seen you either. I tell Linda that mean you still gotta be somewhere on the island. We think it be a good idea to start at Morgan's place and start tracking you from there." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"You'd have been proud of us," Linda concluded. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"When we find you, Linda Lady think you were dead, Boss Bart. Me, too." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Yeah, but the little lady here is the one that had the presence of mind to call me," Freeman grunted. Bartholomew didn't know why, but the old doctor and Moxie had carried on a running feud for years. |
|
|
|
|
|